If U Seek Alfred
by Cyrelia J
Summary: Kink meme de-anon. Director's Cut! "Cherry Pie" sequel. Canada wants to show America he really is better as a guy. But what happens when his little lesson goes too far? Multiple/Canada, Canada/Fem!America, and others listed inside. ACE Ending
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of its characters. I'm also not making any money off of this.

Note: This is the sequel to Cherry Pie. You probably could read this without reading the other but I can't guarantee that everything will make sense if you do. The only warning I'll give with this story is once again be prepared for **anything** short of scat or non con. This story gets a lot darker, a lot more angsty and will contain extreme bloodplay and guro so you've been warned. This is the same basic story as was on the kink meme with bonus director's footage. Enjoy! :)

Now for pairings: Major England/Canada, Russia/Canada, Prussia/Austria, and Canada/Fem!America. Minor: Sealand/Canada, Germany/Prussia/Austria, Canada/Austria, China/Russia, France/Canada, and Fem!America/England. Squint and you'll miss it: Poland/Hungary, Russia/Lithuania, and America/Belarus. ACE ending- sorry if that's a spoiler I just don't want anyone to read 100+ pages only to be unpleasantly surprised. Also since I'm editing and adding things some of the pairings might jump from minor to major but I'll change this list accordingly if that's the case.

If U Seek Alfred  
By Cyrelia J

Part 1

"...almost ran that jerk over- he deserved it too- and that's when I called you from the airport." Canada sighed, wriggling the slipper off his foot, toeing at the instep as he finished the story for his seated audience. "And well, you both know the rest." He added the honey to the small teacup, stirring it until it dissolved. The spoon slowed as he examined exactly what it was he was doing while his own pepsi- _fuck you Al I don't like coke_- was getting flat. "Roderich, why am I getting your tea?" he asked suddenly as he stopped stirring entirely. Austria had graduated from "guest" to "help yourself, no seriously" ages ago and now that he was no longer running on autopilot he realized just what he was doing.

Austria, sitting on the couch next to Poland looked up from the television and over the counter at him with a level gaze.  
"Proving a point, Matthew." He readjusted his glasses as he leaned back. "You are a complete and utter pushover." Canada frowned, picking up the tea anyway and bringing it back into the living room. "And you allow people to keep pushing without protest until it finally explodes in some unhealthy overly aggressive manner. Like Alfred's car for example." Canada blushed at that memory.

It hadn't exactly been his proudest moment that day when he'd left the conference, fists balled, tearing through the parking lot and seeing America's rental reminding him that America wouldn't even listed to him where the damn extra five dollar insurance was concerned had been the last straw. Those thoughts were interrupted however by the sound of the audience on the television cheering the next competitor. The 2009 World's Strongest Man competition was airing the finals today and the three of them had spent the weekend glued to the set. Martin Wildauer representing Austria had already lost but in the interest of good sportsmanship- and apparently attempting to diagnose Canada's love life- Austria had stayed on to root for Louis-Phillipe Jean. They were all hoping the Americans would lose today on principle.

"If I were you," Poland added sitting cross legged on the red LaZBoy recliner at the other end of the living room, "I'd dump his ass." He popped the red cherry sucker back into his mouth as they went to commercial. "Like seriously, I don't care how big his dick is-"  
"Feliks!" Canada interrupted embarrassed. "That has nothing to do with any of it... besidesheusuallybottoms..." Popcorn in his lap, he sat back and sighed. "I mean the sex is… it's fine... it is absolutely **not** the problem! The problem is my own brother doesn't even see me as a man! I mean I know I don't stand out as much as he does but really? Telling me I'm a better woman? Who cares if I have a dick?" he spluttered through a mouthful of popcorn. He downed the pepsi angrily and on the sofa next to him, Austria was thoughtful.

Watching the screen as Pudgianowski begun hefting the first atlas ball, Austria sipped his tea before finally adding, "I think you're wrong Matthew. I think coitus is exactly the problem." Canada swallowed and regarded him skeptically.  
"Roderich, I already told you, the sex is fine. It's always been fine. I mean fine is good. Fine is healthy. Not like with Arthur like you told me but... Alright y'know what, we're not even gonna go there today. Alfred and I have a perfectly **normal** sex life. Just the two of us, just like it should be. I mean it's not like… wellit'snotlikeitwasthatlasttime but…"  
"Exactly." Austria sipped the tea idly, crossing a leg as Pudzianowski was off to a good start against Derek Pounsdstone. "Oh my…"  
"See, he's totally winning this year just like last," Poland crowed.  
"Mmm… yes he does have good form."  
"Oh yeah, like when Pudzian was training I made sure to stop by and cheer him on. It was amazing! He did like curls with me hanging off his right arm and then Liz even hung off the left and-"  
"Hello, guys? My relationship is falling apart?" They didn't seem to hear him and as the two continued fawning over the polish strongman, Canada sat back forlornly taking a handful of cheese curls almost a perfect mirror of his twin on similar angst induced eating binges.

"I think it would help if you told us what exactly your sexual relationship is like when you're a man," Austria said when the show cut to another commercial and Poland groaned at Pudzianowski's time. His cel phone rang in that moment and Austria looked at the number on display before ruthlessly rejecting the call. "What usually happens when the two of you are intimate?"  
"You don't have to go into the nasty details," Poland added with a wrinkle of his nose and Canada rolled his eyes.  
"You didn't mind when I was telling you what happened in autumn."  
"Yeah… hot girl, large tracts of land. You… not so much." He smoothed the knit skirt, shifting on the large chair, the lolipop sliding out of his mouth again with a _pop_. "Y'know if all you want is a douchebag with a monster cock, I hear Ivan and Yao are on the outs."

Canada groaned and buried his face in his hands.  
"Do I even want to know how you know all of that?" Austria asked with a raised eyebrow.  
"Hey, You get stuck sharing a house with a guy for like thirty years and try and tell me..." Poland trailed off realizing they were both staring at him now. "Okay it was like so totally not gay like that." Austria chose not to comment on that further, instead turning his attention back to Canada..  
"The question, Matthew?" And Canada was silent as he thought about the best way to answer that.  
"There's not a whole lot to tell," he said at last with a sigh. "I mean we go out, we have fun, hang out like we've always done- before we even started sleeping together, that is- and when we're done we have sex . Sometimes we see a movie or a hockey game or we go to the batting cages or one of those old car shows that Al likes." He smiled remembering this past summer when they rented the house in New Jersey and spent the weekend at the beach. "We had a great time at Seaside this year. The weather was perfect, we'd gotten ice cream and some kids joined me in burying Al up to his neck in the sand. The taffy was great, and Al put a whole bunch of it in his mouth when I dared him and… why are you looking at me like that?"

The two of them were both giving him a **look** and Austria sighed.  
"So… did you guys even fuck?" Poland asked bluntly.  
"O-of course we did! I mean I just thought you wanted to hear about the best part of the trip and… oh my god…" He almost dropped the soda he was holding. "Did I really just call taffy the best part of the trip?" His voice rose an octave at that, his eyes were comically wide. "Oh my god…"  
"Hmm, and not counting this last time, how about the last time you went out with him as a woman?" Austria sipped his tea as he pressed on. Poland shot Canada a concerned glance.  
"Maybe we should give him a moment." Austria set the cup down, sat back with his arms crossed and looked at him coolly.  
"No, I think there's a point that needs to be made here. Matthew, answer the question."

Canada thought back; it wasn't that long ago, really and somehow it was a lot easier to think about the sexual aspect of the trip that time around.  
"Well, we actually went to Seaside again. Al said he wanted to see what I'd look like in a bathing suit. It was humiliating," Canada grumbled. "He talked me into this red and white thing that you could see through when it was wet. Of course I didn't realize that til it was too late... Someone hid our clothes and I don't know how he talked me into it but we had sex under the pier after that… and against the pier… and he was trying to get me to it on the towel but with the sand and... ohmygod…" His voice was little more than a squeak when the house phone rang. _Oh god Al was right. I'm a total loser. I'm a fucking girl. I'm turning into a girl! Ohmygod no wonder he doesn't see me as a guy anymore... He's left me for… for me ?_ Poland looked at him about to completely meltdown and got up taking a seat next to him.  
"Okay, deep breath, Matt. Breathe." He put an arm around Canada's shoulders watching as the other leaned forward, hands between his legs hyperventilating. "Roderich? A little help here?"

"Of course I hung up, I told you that phone is for work purposes and emergencies. No, slaking your primitive lusts does not constitute an emergency." Austria was on the phone looking almost bored and it was clear within those first few sentences that he was talking to Prussia. "You know we're watching the finals of the World's Strongest Man... Hen party? How long were you practicing that one in front of the mirror?" Overhearing Austria's side of the conversation, Canada's eyes wildly darted back and forth between the two of them panicked. _Hen party? Are you kidding me even Prussia now? Does the whole world think I'm just some chick with a dick or-_ He looked at them and suddenly seemed to realize in that moment that his two best friends were a crossdresser and a man in a fucking cravat and every fucking one of them even shaved their legs for some reason or another and Canada keened as he rocked back and forth. "OhmygodI'mafuckinggirl..."

"No, Wildauer is out. And Trimpl finished last in his heat as a matter of fact so you can tell Ludwig that I win. Oh Pudzianowski's been a treat to watch. Yes, quite strong," he let the excitement creep into his voice just enough. "Of course I can't imagine what such a fine specimen could do if... Oh you're going to be joining Ludwig at the gym after all?" The smile was small as he prepared to hang up. "Oh yes... yes you'll just have to do that won't you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have something important to attend to... You are a disgusting pig and I don't know why I even kiss you with a mouth like that..." He seemed at a loss for words processing the response. "Well I suppose that would be one reason... Goodbye Gilbert."

He sighed and paused the DVR.  
"Matthew." Canada had swatted Poland away, standing up looking absolutely frantic as he continued to talk to himself.  
"I can't believe this. This can't be happening." He was pacing the room at a maddening pace and Austria raised an eyebrow at Poland who held his hands up.  
"I didn't say a word. He just like started freaking out when he heard you talking to that washed up loser you're sleeping with." Austria glared and Poland popped the chocolate vanilla sucker back in his mouth. "Hey, I just call it like I see it."  
"Matthew," Austria started again, finally walking over and grabbing him by the shoulders. "Focus. Breathe. You're going to have to calm down."

"You're wearing a cravat. He's wearing a skirt."  
"Matthew-"  
"I'm watching sweaty men lifting heavy things over their heads and I'm making tea and we're gossiping like fucking Sex in the City-"  
"Matthew-" he raised his voice only to be over talked by another oblivious declaration as Canada continued to have his miniature meltdown.  
"There are doilies on my coffee table- **doilies**!"  
"Yes well that is a rather fine grain of wood, but really, Matthew-"  
"ohmygodAlwasright!" And then Austria at last gave a long suffering sigh and slapped him hard enough to rock his head to one side.  
"Like whoa you put some serious shoulder into that one," Poland observed impressed. Canada swallowed, holding the side of his stinging face, eyes coming back into focus, whispering terrified as he looked between them both, "Al was right, Roderich."  
"No, Alfred is most certainly not right."  
"Amen to that," Poland chimed in but raised his hand continuing. "No, like seriously, Matt. Being a guy has like nothing to do with what you wear or what you like to look at or all that superficial bull." He tapped the side of his head. "It's your identity. It's up in here and you can't just like turn it off cause America zapped you with some weird techno junk and gave you boobs. I should so kick his ass one of these days for even getting all up in your head like that. You are so much cooler than he is you do not even know."

"Exactly," Austria affirmed and Canada let his hand down seeming to have relaxed. "Your gender has nothing to do with how you behave or how you appear, it is what you know yourself to be. It is your thought process, your way of relating to people, your ay of identifying with the world around you. People would not seek gender reassignment if it was something as simple as a physical body or a set of clothes, Matthew. You are a man, are you not? Forget whatever nonsense Alfred was spouting, clearly he wasn't thinking with the proper portion of his anatomy and answer me honestly." Canada blinked, still trying to take in what was coming at him from all sides, still smarting from America's thoughtless proposal back in the fall- and Austria's slap but that was neither here nor there. Thinking about the question in earnest, thinking about who he was and what he felt inside, turning it over in his head and really being honest...

"Of course!" he didn't even have to think twice about it once he got America's stupid voice out of his head. He looked down slightly at Austria as he spoke marveling at just how damn confident a guy had to be to go around dressed like that. The color had come back to his face as he nodded, feeling more himself, more sure of himself than he had in the last few months. _Dammit, why'd I let this get so far? Why the hell did I ever start doubting myself? Damn, am I that insecure that I'm gonna go to pieces just because Al can't think before he talks? Alright, the hell with that._

"Yes... Yes dammit! I am! I am too a man" He nodded again and stood up straighter. He could do this. He wasn't just going to take this lying down either he was going to do something about it! "And I'm not uptight! And I am too, fun!" Poland applauded from the couch and Austria smiled. Canada raised a fist in the air not feeling even the least bit ridiculous at the gesture. "And I **am** sexy! And... and I am **not** the poor man's America!"  
"Who are you, Matt?" Poland called like a cheerleader from the chair and Canada answered him quickly.  
"I'm Canada, dammit! And I'm going to teach Al a lesson he'll never forget!" And from where he stood next to him, Austria's smile was positively wicked.  
"Good. And I think I know exactly how to do just that."

* * *

Zydrunas Savickas had ended up winning that year. America normally didn't pay it any mind; he preferred to simply read the results when the competition was over. This year, however, with Canada still not returning his calls or his texts, he'd turned in curious to see just what his brother found so damn interesting about a bunch of big sweaty guys lifting heavy shit over their heads- seriously, could Canada be any more gay? It was about as boring as he thought it'd be, but sitting home alone it gave him an excuse to sit in front of the TV with a Chicago deep dish and stew over the entire rotten situation. Stupid gossip got around fast- which always amazed him because if there was one thing Canada wasn't, it was a gossip- and everyone seemed to know within a damn week that he and Canada were fighting. That in an of itself wouldn't be so bad except for the fact that everyone he usually would turn to for a quick fuck wasn't speaking to him. Stupid Canada, like he was the bad guy here?

_Really, I just said what everyone else already thinks, Mattie. Why else do you think Gilbert hits on you all the time? Here's a hint, it's not just to piss off Roderich. How can you call yourself a guy when you don't even have the balls to stand up for yourself? God, when we first got together you were incredible; it must've been the pot 'cause before the seventies were even over you got dull as dirt and went right back to acting like we were just brother who fucked and not anything else._ And he knew Canada had to be lying about all the nations he'd slept with too. Once upon a time he might've believed him, but the way his brother shuffled around slumped over dressed like some loser skater not even being noticed he'd bet that old musket in the attic it was a load of crap. If Canada didn't want him to keep seeing other people he should've just told him straight out. He didn't need to make a bunch of ridiculous crap up like a damn teenage girl.

Hell, he wished Canada had told him a lot of things. If he didn't like changing into a woman he should've said so; but as it was he was spending more time as a woman anyway so he must've liked being one better. He sure as hell seemed to get off a lot more and a lot harder and **dammit** what was wrong with marrying him anyway? Jesus, if he didn't want America to fall in love with his female self he never should've… _God I miss her,_ America thought suddenly wishing his brother would stop being so damn stubborn already. Or was Canada looking at other options now that he had such a crazy ace up his sleeve? Fuck, a woman like that could have her damn pick of any of the nations, friendly foreign relations between their people or not. _Is she really sleeping with Arthur? Or Francis? Dammit, Mattie, why don't you just tell me if you want them instead of me! fucking **talk** to me so we can work this out. I mean I still love you, you're my brother and I still like being bros and all but…_

He stopped, realizing he was already at the door of the conference room. The building today was strangely empty but it didn't surprise him. Parliament used the Palace of Westminster after all, not the dumb office building set aside for the world conference. Hell he was amazed that England didn't have them meeting in a broom closet or outside where it was "nice" like Switzerland did to save fucking money. No, same stupid office building and England let him know that this emergency meeting was of the highest security and only a handful of them at the greatest risk of a terrorist attack even knew about it. Hell, America wasn't even sure who else was going to be there. Dammit England better not be overreacting. America already got enough crap about faulty intelligence and he'd skipped breakfast to boot! He'd only had a few hours to charter a flight- he was still dressed in his jeans and a sweatshirt! But that was probably for the best. He'd taken Canada's rejection hard and hadn't felt nearly as inspired to hit the gym. Daily routine? Ha! He was pretty sure he hadn't set foot inside a weight room since November. Poking at his soft stomach he shuddered and prayed no one would notice the few- he hadn't stepped on the scale but he was going with the word "few"- extra pounds.

The silence was almost eerie as he turned the knob and heard the door creak. _Oh god this is just like that freaky porno Kiku lent me... where that dude got lured into some crazy gangbang and they came all over his face and shit._ America swallowed hard. _Okay, calm down... crap like that only happens in porn not in real life. I mean so yeah the guy kinda looked like me but that's just Kiku and his creepy blonde haired blue eyed gaijin fetish... And my ass seriously is not that big and I so would not like 6 hot beefcakes fucking me... okay, mind out of the gutter, dumbass, this is fucking Arthur, he's a total perv but totally lame and there's no way he'd ever be able to come up with anything that exciting... er, horrifying. Yeah, horrifying._ His expression was wary as he entered the room and his imagination kicked into overdrive. _Maybe I should've brushed my teeth first. 'Course if I'm getting hot eurocock rammed down my throat it probably doesn't matter..._

What greeted him of course was nothing nearly so exciting. The small presentation room for their subcommittees was just as dull as he remembered it. Six long wooden tables faced the front divided by a large center aisle with one lone table for the presenter in front of a giant whiteboard. And today only the front row was occupied, however that was to be expected since England had told him the meeting was only amongst those that were part of the MI5 intelligence brief. Well, at least the solid wooden chairs were comfortable. England was busy scribbling notes in the ancient leather day planner- It still totally looked like a handbag to America, he didn't care what Eyebrows said- he was fond of carrying. Seated at the table across the aisle were Germany, Prussia, and Austria. That was curious, but he knew Germany had its fair share of tensions. _Poland and Russia too? Jesus, how big is this conspiracy? _He was surprised Spain or France weren't present, but perhaps things had settled down. He was concerned when he saw Canada sitting there between England and Russia though. Were they targeting his brother too?

"Well, since the hero is here, I guess we can finally get started right?" He clapped his hands together looking excited pretending he didn't notice the look of disbelief on everyone's faces at his slight weight gain. No, no they were probably admiring his totally awesome sweatshirt… UF had seriously rocked it this year. He didn't see Canada staring down at his palm pilot somewhat nervously not having looked up once since he arrived. The poor bastard looked like he was gonna throw up at any moment and as mad as America had been he couldn't help but feel bad.  
"We're still waiting for a few more to arrive, Al. But you can sit down. Uhh… anyone have to go to the bathroom?" Canada finally looked up at him and seemed about ready to pass out. England put a hand on his shoulder and whispered "breathe" and once again his brother dropped his gaze and America thought he heard a faint whisper of "Toris isn't coming..." America looked at them for a moment but shrugged and didn't think too much about it. _Hah! Just realizing what you lost, is that it, Mattie?_ Oh yeah, he still had it. A few pounds didn't make that much difference, he was still the United States of America dammit! Japan's diet could wait, after this he was so hitting some of the pubs in London... maybe he could convince England to be his wing man. _Pfft, a choice between me and Mr Belvedere? No fucking contest._

America hardly paid anyone any mind as he swaggered further into the room, confidence restored, visions of busty British babes dancing through his head. Yawning, America walked down the center aisle to take his seat, pausing only when his eyes rested upon the craziest fucking thing in the back of the room. _How the hell did I miss that?_ He blinked stupidly, hand still resting abortively on the back of his chair as he goggled at the manacles that seemed to be coming out of the brick.  
"Uh… hey guys?" He had a weird flash to that freaky gangbang porno again and swallowed. "Am I seeing things or is that-" He yelped when something sharp pierced his neck. "Hey, what the hell?" He pulled the small dart staring at it stupidly before looking up at the lot of them. The room was already starting to sway. _Holy fucking shit I've been rohypnol'ed!_ was his last thought before he blacked out.

Canada was the first to stand up looking even more nervous than before if that was possible. He looked at Poland who seemed far too gleeful holding the tranquilizer gun.  
"Oh wow, that was like just as cool as I always thought it'd be!"  
"Jesus, what's in that?" He'd expected America to make a mad dash for the door or something but instead he dropped almost instantly like a lead weight. Poland put the small gun back into his favorite Louis Vuitton handbag smugly.  
"Only enough animal tranq to drop like an elephant." Canada stared at him looking mildly horrified as Poland waved him away. "C'mon, Matt, you know these things don't affect us nearly as strongly as humans and it would be a total disaster if he freaked out and went all 'roid rage or something." Austria stood up, readjusting his cravat, preparing to take control of the situation as he promised he would when they'd spoken earlier.  
"He'll be fine Matthew. Ivan is he ready?" He looked at Russia who had managed to catch America with an uncanny speed with just one arm. He smiled, pulling at the other's face with a childish sadism.  
"He's out," Russia chirped, stretching his cheek painfully to illustrate the point. "So let's set him up, yes?"

America was definitely heavier than he looked, though he looked noticeably heavier than he did some months ago. At least that was what Russia had said as he hefted him over one shoulder like a sack of rice and carried him to the back of the room. Germany assisted him in clamping on the leather lined manacles knowing time was of the essence; they couldn't be sure of exactly how long America would stay unconscious. Austria directed them both, ever the consummate maestro and Canada sighed feeling guilty as hell. _Has he even eaten? Well of course he's ben eating, just look at him stupid. Well yeah but has he eaten today? What if it makes him sick and he throws up on the floor or the chains aren't rated properly and this turns into When America Attacks or-_  
"Okay, so maybe a phone call would've been better. Maybe we should call this off and sit down and talk it over." He was losing his nerve and he was losing it fast as he looked at them all and realized in a few minutes he was gonna be-  
"Are you mad?" England exclaimed and coughed somewhat uncomfortably as Canada faced him, startled at the outburst.  
"That is... ah... whatever he's going through, lad, just remember the git brought it on himself," England clapped him on the arm, that gaze far too excited and Canada sighed.

"Arthur, I don't know if this is such a good idea for you to be here after all. You know it's just a little..." He trailed off and wondered if Japan wasn't rubbing off on him but he hardly wanted to hash out his fucked up relationship problems with England while they had an audience. Austria had assured him that this last encounter would be closure, that once America saw them and saw that aspect of Canada's id and saw the raw sexuality that he could be able to transfer those masochistic needs to America and he wouldn't need England anymore and this would just get England out of his system and all he needed to do would be to stay focused on America while they did it and-  
"Matthew," England's voice again cut through his thoughts, soft as it was he responded automatically, "Yes da- er Yeah, Arthur?" And fuck it was already starting but once America was his focus he'd be good, right?  
"Matthew," England reached up and tucked a stray lock of hair back behind Canada's ear and in spite of himself, Canada leaned in, breaths steadying because England was here. Daddy was here and- _No! No, that's just a scene like Roderich says. He's Arthur, he's your equal, you two are exactly the same and you're gonna do this one last time and forget all about him and be with America and- _"It will be fine, right?"

Germany looked at him concerned, rescuing him from all the chaos swimming through his head without even realizing it. "If you really don't want to do this Matthew, we can-"  
"He's doing it," Austria said, arms folded, expressing brooking no argument. He looked at Canada sympathetically. "Matthew. At this point I don't think words are what you need. You might be able to come to some superficial agreement but the problem at the heart of this will remain. He doesn't see you as a man. Whatever you'd aroused in him that night in October as your female self, you're more than capable of doing as a male and he needs to remember that. He also needs to see you as more than simply a one dimensional lover which is why all of us are here. He needs to see all aspects of your sexual identity and more importantly..." More importantly what England didn't need to know was that this was it for them and from here on out it was just America and Canada, normal and happy and healthy and this last swan song would do it.  
"Specs here also wants to beat off to me an West plowing that cute ass of yours." Prussia finally rose from where he was seated with a languid stretch.  
"Brother-" Germany started already feeling a headache coming on at the potential disaster in the making this was.  
"I desire nothing of the sort," Austria cut in with a huff, masterfully indignant, utterly in denial, but he masked it perfectly.

So perfectly in fact that Canada was still worried that sleeping with his friend's lovers wasn't nearly as okay as it seemed. "Are you sure **you're** okay with this, Roderich?" Canada asked in earnest ignoring Prussia's remark entirely. "I mean I know you're in a relationship and I appreciate that you're willing to put aside any jealous feelings that you might have to help me but I don't want this to come between you."  
"Are you shitting me, kid?" Prussia said erupting into raucous laughter which only grew louder at Canada's confused expression. He looked at Austria mischievously. "So, princess should I tell him, all about your dirty little pillow talk saying how you couldn't wait to see Mattie's asshole- Christ!" Austria had elbowed him hard in the gut without so much as batting an eye or even glancing in his direction. Canada resisted the urge to sigh. _Alright, so maybe this **isn't** the noble sacrifice he said it was…_ Prussia doubled over with a wheeze of "was that supposed to hurt?" not garnering any sympathy from his brother.  
"You brought that on yourself," Germany stated baldly.

He then looked over to England while he started to reset his watch. "Alright, I've blocked in fifteen minutes, Arthur, is that going to work?" England looked up indignantly from his appointment book.  
"Fifteen minutes?"  
"," Canada mumbled under his breath as he leaned back against the wall waiting for America to wake up. Okay so that didn't include the sometimes hours of foreplay and the fact that Canada had usually come half a dozen times by the time they got to the actual act. Well, England wasn't making this any easier dammit, so why should he?  
"Are you really going to standing there with a bleeding stopwatch and time it?" England demanded storming over angrily.  
"We only have the building reserved for the next few hours, Arthur, and I would imagine that Matthew and Alfred are going to want to be alone after… after we're finished." He still wasn't entirely comfortable putting "Operation Sigmund" as Austria called it into words.

Austria looked over at Poland calmly as England attempted to wrestle the PDA from Germany and input a larger block of time.  
"Do you know when he'll be conscious, Feliks?" Poland looked up from where he'd been setting up a tripod and camcorder from the far end of the room as part of Hungary's early birthday present.  
"Should be like a few more minutes I guess. Hey, Matt, you brought that phaser thingy, right? Cause I was telling Liz about it and she was like 'oh my god that would be so kinky to see' so I definitely wanna get it on here too." Canada nodded and dug into the large pockets of the red and white hoodie.  
"Yeah, it's right in here. I don't know about that part of the plan though. I mean he's already gonna be mad enough without me turning him into a girl on top of it." Canada looked over at his prone brother shackled to the wall, supported only by Russia who was having entirely too much fun making faces with his pliant skin.

"Matthew, Alfred needs to realize that your physical shape has no bearing on your identifying as a male. The best way for him to realize that is by experiencing the same thing that you do. Knowing him, I'm sure if you merely suggested it he'd refuse."  
"Already has," Canada answered with a sigh. "Said it was too 'gay'." He rolled his eyes.  
"Yeah 'cause taking it up the poop chute just screams hetero," Poland said as he turned the recording on. "And on that note I'm like seriously outta here. I love you to death, Matt but there are like some things I don't need to see. Besides, I know Liz is gonna make me watch it later anyway," he added with a roll of his eyes. "Give me the tape when you're done, Matt?" Canada nodded and Poland walked to the door sticking his head out.  
"Hey, isn't Francis supposed to be here too?" he asked looking both ways down the empty hall. Canada frowned.  
"I think he's running late." Canada looked to England. "Is the traffic in the chunnel really busy on tuesdays?"

England snorted pulling out his phone.  
"Probably dragging himself out of some underaged girl still pissed out of his head." He dialed the number easily from memory, and Canada took the phone. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather I talked with him, Matthew?" Canada simply stared at him and England threw his hands up in the air as if to say that was it. Canada really had been torn about having France be a part of this. His relationship with his other father figure- oh but don't dare call him papa, they were both adults after all, were they not?- was just so damn complicated and France and England both in one day was probably just gonna kill him. But he was showing America the entire crazy spectrum right? And sex with France would be nothing if not completely and utterly normal and nice and okay maybe he wouldn't answer the phone and-

"_Oui_?" And Canada felt the bile in his throat and he swallowed it down, forcing the words out and god why were they al looking at him, shouldn't they be working out the timetable or the scene or what the hell ever and oh god he needed to say something. Maybe it would be easier if he spoke in french? No! No that would most certainly make it even harder so he stammered out a barely vociferated, "Ah h-hello _pa-_ Francis!"  
"Ah, Matthew, I thought I would be hearing from you. You're at your little party right now?" Little party? That condescending fucker he knew exactly what-  
"Haha, yeah, right party. Um... you're... you're still coming, right?" He toyed with the strings of the hoodie as France sighed on the other end as if he were speaking to a disobedient child.  
"No, I don't think that would be a good idea. I was under the impression that this would be a fun little romp not a... perhaps you should put Roderich on the phone, he is there is he not?"

_I'm an adult huh? We're both adults? You stupid ass, you can't just say stuff like that... you can't just tell me that we're mature and grown up and that I can't call you papa and then turn around and treat me like a child! You can't... You can't **do** this it's not-_  
"Haha, yeah... uh huh... s-sure," And he went right along and handed Austria the phone, Austria who looked at him with that long suffering disappointed frown as he took the phone because god they'd talked and talked this issue to death already, hadn't they? And Canada really just wanted to bury his face in dad- **England's** shoulder and let the other kiss him on the forehead and tell him what an asshole France was and tell him some story from ages ago about the two of them in their "wild youth" as England would say and oh Austria and France were like cats and dogs, but then again Austria and England never got along very well either.

""Primitive mockery of sexual psychology?" Austria scoffed. "You speak as a man with more far more scientific learning than I recall you to possess." Canada resisted the urge to groan because somehow he was sure that if France wasn't keen on coming before he sure as hell wasn't going to now. Canada crossed his arms and hugged himself as he leaned back against the wall on America's other side just praying this was over and he was back home with England in front of the fire or sitting in America's living room playing Super Smash Brothers- and kicking Link's ass with Jigglypuff- and he closed his eyes centering himself just praying that he kept his head and this worked out and Austria was right and England went back to being just a friend and he and America could live together and-  
"Irresponsible? Me? Coming from a man who's caught more venereal diseases in his existence than a petri dish I- Well we're not talking about Arthur now, are we?"  
"What the fuck did that bloody tosser say about me?" Austria danced out of the way with the phone in hand easily.  
"Oh you don't, do you? Well I assure you, Francis that I have always ever had far more of Matthew's best interests at heart than-" And Austria's expression darkened and he snarled in a far more furious countenance than Canada had ever seen him, "go to hell!" before hanging the phone up angrily.

Canada groaned and England snatched the phone back and walked over to where Germany was attempting to readjust the time blocks.  
"Well, the hell with the frog!" he exclaimed snatching Germany's PDA and playing keep away with it. "Roderich here's the bonafide psychological expert, not that wine guzzling derelict. And if he and I can put aside our differences to help you out, lad, then that wanker's the one missing out. Really, the way that overly dramatic queen was probably nattering on, you'd think we were sacrificing animals on an alter. We'll just let Alfred stew a little watching you with us, you give him a good shag, duke it out if you have to, and bob's your uncle he finally gets it, right?" Though Canada couldn't help but notice that England had left himself out of that final picture so maybe he was finally ready to let go too.  
"That's a gross oversimplification," Austria replied mildly going to take a comfortable seat near the camera as Poland finally was ready to leave for good.  
"So like, you're sure you'll be fine right? I mean you know I don't get into this stuff but if you really need me to stay, Matt..." Canada shook his head, finally peeling himself away from the wall with a ghost of a smile.  
"No, That's alright Feliks, I'll be fine. But thank you. I really appreciate all of this."

"You did not just give yourself an entire two hours!" Germany exclaimed finally seizing the device after Poland left with a final wave. England looked thoroughly unrepentant and Canada wondered wildly what on earth could take so long without their usual setup.  
"I want two also!" Russia called out stepping back as America seemed to finally start standing under his own power.  
"No! Neither of you are getting two. I've already accounted for France's absence by giving each of us an extra five minutes but that is **it**!"  
"Hey West," Prussia added sauntering over completely unphased by his earlier "chastisement", "You better give us at least four," Austria snorted at that, "Cause we're gonna tear that ass up."

Several things happened in that moment. Prussia gave Canada's ass a hearty slap and was met by Austria's annoyed declaration of "Can you not restrain yourself like a civilized creature for more than five minutes?" This was punctuated by a slap, or at least an attempted slap because prepared this time, Prussia caught his lover's wrist with a grin, leaning in and whispering, "If you're that eager to get the show started, bitch, we don't have to wait for Mattie." Germany called for order- Austria taking his hand back furiously- and Canada jumped back and into England sending the both of them to the floor. More importantly however, America finally came to and took in the scene -eerily grinning Russia next to him in particular- with wide eyes and drew his own insane conclusion.  
"Ohmyfuckinggod you really **are** all gonna rape me!" America shrieked pulling furiously at the manacles. "You can't do that, I'm too pretty to get the prison bitch treatment!"


	2. Chapter 2

Note: Just want to remind everyone about the only warning in the first part and let everyone know this will have some Canada/Sealand and England/Canada.

England looked up annoyed as he disentangled from a profusely apologizing Canada and stood up.  
"You! Why on earth would anyone want to bugger your fat arse?"  
"It's not fat, it's winter weight!" America shouted back hotly.  
"It is if you're a bleeding polar bear!"  
"Guys?" Canada tried to interrupt feeling as if this entire plan was spiraling out of control as America and England continued to scream at each other. He also watched America straining and pulling at the chains thankful the thing was rated for a heard of fucking bison because he had a feeling that someone was getting their ass kicked when America finally got out- and at the rate things were going it was likely to be England.

"It's just more cushion for the pushin' you limey asshole!"  
"You and your asinine expressions! Haven't you mangled the language I gave you enough?"  
"Hey, I'm not the one with spotted dick pudding pervert! I bet this was all your stupid idea, too!"  
**"My** idea? I'll have you know-"  
"Enough!" Germany's bellow cut through the entire scene and even as he nearly jumped ten feet in the air, Canada was never more thankful that he'd invited him. "Matthew, explain to your brother why we're all gathered here!" He snapped our crisply, and Canada almost saluted in response. "We don't have this conference room forever and every moment the lot of you spend bickering, I'm docking it from your time! No one has two hours, **everyone** has twenty minutes!" He cut Prussia off before the protest even gave voice. "Yes that includes you and I. No you don't get extra time I know exactly how long it takes you! The average worldwide duration for human intercourse is five minutes so I don't want to hear any complaints! I **will** be timing it and if anyone goes over I will not hesitate to- What are you doing?"

Austria had deftly swiped the PDA with an ease that would make the most skilled pickpocket envious. He looked the schedule over critically with that disapproving cluck of his tongue that both Germany and Prussia easily recognized as the "I asked for a torte not a tart" click which was in fact eerily similar to his "no, no, the angle of your hips is all wrong let me show you how you're supposed to do it" click.  
"No, this definitely will **not** do," Austria said half to himself even as he easily danced out of the way of Germany's furious grabbing pressing at random buttons with a frown in spite of Germany's yelling, "_Mein Gott,_ you can't just mash at the buttons like you do with the television remote! You already broke my mobile phone you-" Austria dropped the device on the ground annoyed and then wordlessly stomped it into pieces, brushing his hands off on his coat as if he'd finished dealing with a particularly unpleasant business with a murmur of "clearly it was defective" even as Germany howled.  
"What is wrong with you? You are useless with machines just accept it already!" Ignoring the red faced hyperventilating German next to him Austria merely adjusted his glasses and looked at Canada calmly; the device was under warranty, after all.  
"Yes Matthew, **do** tell Alfred why we're here today."

Canada had been staring dumbly as Germany realized that once again arguing with Austria was futile and desperately scrambled to salvage the device; he almost missed Austria speaking entirely. Canada blinked and looked at America struggling and staring at them all nervously and couldn't help but feel angry at his self centered jerk of a brother and his ridiculous conclusions. _You really think this is all about you, don't you? You're standing there in a ratty sweatshirt and baggy jeans to hide the fact that your fucking weight yoyo'd again- yeah news flash, **I** think it's hot, the rest of the world doesn't- up to god only knows what and you still think we're here for **you**? You miserable, clueless, self centered asshole! I can't believe I've been feeling guilty about this. I can't believe I was feeling sorry for you. I can't believe I actually thought we could just talk this out and that you'd understand anything short of a diagram and a stupid picture book. Fuck Francis, he has no idea what it's gonna take to get a clue through that thick skull of yours... But I do._

Eyes narrowing, Canada still smiled cheerfully- far too cheerfully- but America was silent as he approached.  
"Don't worry, Al, no one's here to do anything to you." America hardly relaxed but he was definitely more curious now as he watched his brother stop in front of him. "In fact Al, they're all here for me."  
"For you?" America parroted back dumbly. _What the hell is going on, Mattie? So you're in on this... whatever the hell this is? What about the meeting? Oh duh, yeah obviously there's no meeting. So then why are we here? What the fuck am I chained to the fucking wall for with that creepy motherfucker smiling next to me like it's about to be fucking rape 'o clock or some shit. _

"Yeah, Al," he said keeping that cheerful smile on his face as he walked over to England. "See... you seem to have this funny idea that I'm... what did you say?... that I'm uptight?... that I'm useless as a guy? That I'm not sexy enough for you?" And America might not always be the first to the deductive finish line but he was hardly an idiot. He frowned as it dawned on him exactly just what might be going on if they were all there for Canada. Oh yeah, he had a damn good idea of exactly how those fucking perverts were "there" for his brother... not that he was bothered by that or anything, hey if Canada wanted to set himself up for fucking failure with America watching that was all his business. _Gawd, Mattie, you act like you don't even wanna be there half the time we fuck and you think **I'm** the one who needs the lesson?_  
"Ha!" America yelled back arrogantly, "if they can all stay awake boning your boring ass I'll be surprised."

Canada ignored the dig for the moment and mentally readied himself as he discreetly tapped England on the arm signaling the start. Okay so it wasn't the smoothest damn thing he ever planned but at least the whole world wasn't watching like they were at the olympics. He turned away from America and focused his attention on England fighting down the butterflies thinking that he really should've eaten more than fruit that morning because he really thought he was gonna pass out if he couldn't get into it because god were America's words seriously getting to him already. He licked his lips nervously, steeling himself. _Alright Matthew, showtime. You're doing this to get Al back, to make him see you're desirable, this is all to save the relationship, dammit... you can do this. Fuck him he has no idea what I can do. He has no idea what Arthur and I really have and he just doesn't get how much I'm giving up for him today. But that's not the point, the point is if I don't show him everything I'm gonna lose him. Roderich's here for moral support. They'll stop if it gets to be too much and I can crawl home like the useless loser Al thinks I am- No! No this is gonna work or I'm gonna die trying. _

And Canada knew how to start, he'd just have to get into it and work into his and England's regular routine because that was familiar and comfortable and he could just go from there. with Da- **England**! -God calling him that out loud in their... in their "scene" as Austria called it was one thing but not in his head dammit- to guide him.  
"Al's being mean to me, Daddy..." Canada complained almost identically to the way he did when they were young. Except now he stood over England and his intentions were far from the simple boyish complaints about a brother who refused to share his toys. "He says I'm better off being a girl." And he worried his lower lip nervously, wishing he had something to bite on to make it better, determined to keep his hands out of his mouth for five goddamn minutes when he was under pressure like this. But England just reached up with a smile one step above a leer, his hand resting on the back of Canada's neck and god that alone was enough to make his knees weak. Maybe he was like a damn addict because being away from England for just a few short years should **not** be enough to make him to crazy from one stupid touch.

No, it wasn't just that it was those hands. Canada had been fascinated by England's hands as far back as he could remember being owned by the other. He remembered them as a child seeming so large and strong when he was showing him how to hold a musket, and yet his fingers were long, slender, and looked so refined even when he was bandaging up America's numerous scrapes and cuts. The one big scrap Canada had with America, the one that was bad enough that England actually paid attention to him for more than five minutes he remembered how light and gentle they were, swabbing at his cuts where he'd dumped the alcohol on America's arm and told him to man up. England's palms were equally fascinating to him. They were broad, slightly rough, and so terribly manly, even when Canada looked at his own larger adult hands there was just a width to the span that was lacking in his own opinion and god Canada could feel him now lightly tickling the fine hairs on the back of his neck to tease him. Okay, so maybe he could do this after all.  
"How many times must I tell you, Matthew, not to pay any attention when he bangs on like that?" _Yes daddy, anything daddy._ Ohgodohgod why did he ever think this was just going to be a last swan song with his older lover? "Here now, let daddy show you just how wrong Alfred is." And he leaned in then and it was all Canada could do not to rush in too quickly because really it was so rare that England allowed him this sort of intimacy, by god he was going to enjoy it!

The comment definitely jarred America from whatever shocked stupor he was in and he blinked a few times taking in the sight of his brother about to be kissed by England. Stupid fucking Canada, like it would kill his brother to throw a look like that his way once in awhile? God Canada hardly even looked at him while they were fucking let alone staring at him all intense like that. Alright, that just had to be some kinda stupid put on, there was no other explanation for it and he wasn't fucking biting. _So that's your game is it, you little prick? Tie me up here and try to get a rise out of me by acting all into Arthur? You passive aggressive little fucker, you dragged me out here for this? That's… that's low Mattie. Are you getting off on showing me all the shit you'd never give me before? Is that your point? I kiss your fucking ass and I get more than just a sigh and pat on the ass? Well… well if you think I'm gonna freak out just cause you and eyebrows rehearsed a little makeout scene you can think twice… I know you, I've known you long enough to know that you just don't have it in you so there!_

"This… this is so not gonna work, Mattie!" America yelled defiantly getting his bravado up, getting mad, determined not to give his brother the satisfaction of upsetting him. "Go ahead then! See if I care! I'm not taking it back just cause you had to go get your panties in a wad! If you're too much of a baby to handle a little honesty then I don't ned you anyway! I have other lovers too! You are so not the only nation who wants to ride the Alfred F Jones love train, Matthew Williams! And y'know what, I was so doing better without you too!"

Canada just smiled as England pulled him closer, not paying America any attention at all. _How do you like being ignored for once, Al? _Not that America usually ignored him, ran roughshod over him was more like it but hey that as a technical difference and right now he was riding too damn high to care. So of course the voice from the doorway came as a total surprise.  
"Aha!" Startled by the sudden unexpected exclamation, Canada jumped up and bit his lip hard enough to make it bleed.  
"Fuck _ostie_!" He ignored England's disapproving look at the profanity- really, like **his** mouth wasn't foul enough to blister paint off the walls- and brought a hand up over his mouth to stop the bleeding. England whirled at the familiar voice furiously unable to hide the raw shock on his face.  
"You nasty little bugger how on earth did you-"  
"I knew I'd find you here!" And at that moment everyone turned and looked then at the mysterious newcomer. Austria rose and handed Canada a handkerchief from his pocket to try and help stop the bleeding looking faintly annoyed at the disturbance. Standing right in the doorway his clothes torn and stained, one shoe missing was none other than Sealand. His small hands were dirty, resting on his knees as he bent over trying to catch his breath as if he'd run up all twenty flights of stairs at once.  
"Bloody fucking hell what are you doing here?" England demanded forgetting about Canada entirely.

The micronation drew himself up with a cocky grin as he sauntered into the room smugly with a waggle of once finger.  
"Thought you were gonna pull one over on me, did you?" He slammed down a filthy sheet of paper on the front table with a laugh. "Ha! The joke's on you, jerk England, 'cause **I** found this in your trash bins!"  
"You've been digging through my garbage like a bloomin' raccoon?" England looked rather horrified at the prospect and knowing what he'd often gotten up to in his free time, Canada wouldn't have been surprised if the young Sealand had encountered far more than just-  
"And you, pervert oughta be ashamed at the stuff you're looking at! Jack and Jill went up a hill creep, they sure weren't doing all that pervert stuff in your magazine!"  
"Whoa, Artie you still have those old-"  
"I have nothing of the sort! I am a proper English gentlemen and I'll thank you to keep such comments to yourself." England glared daggers at America just daring him to contradict the statement. Austria and Germany both coughed at that while Prussia almost fell on the floor laughing. Russia merely smiled.

Before anyone could speak to the contrary however, Sealand walked up the center aisle with a triumphant strut and Canada could just **feel** America's grin at the back of his head.  
"Thought you'd have foreign relations without me? No way, the mighty nation of Sealand is staking its claim first!" He pointed at Canada dramatically and yelled, "Get ready, America-" A snicker, yeah that was definitely a snicker.  
"I'm Canada."  
"Get ready, America, 'cause **I've** been practicing!"  
"Yeah, get ready, "America"," the real America chimed in from the back. _Shuttup, Al. Shuttup or so help me we're gonna-_  
"Where in the seven hells are Berwald and Tino?" England addressed young nation with a glare that could melt paint that the other was seemingly oblivious to. Canada simply dropped the handkerchief on the table, buried his face in his hands, and groaned. Why can't things ever just go the way I planned? _Really, God? Sealand? There wasn't anyone more embarrassing that could've walked in? Was Wy busy? Al's whale was too big to fit through the door?_

America's stupid obnoxious fucking laughter wasn't helping either. Yeah, he definitely could do without that over the top wheezing, pig snorting, guffaw. And of course the rest of them were just watching like they couldn't even figure out what to do with themselves. _A little help here from someone who's not Arthur? No? No, of course not..._  
"Shut the hell up hoser!" He slammed a palm on the table, red faced as he looked at America. America who could barely fucking talk through the damn laughing.  
"Oh Gawd, Mattie, is that supposed to make me jealous? Who you gonna get next, your bear?" America's face was red too but oh definitely not from embarrassment. _Okay, that is **it**. That is seriously it. You think you're just so fucking smart, don't you? You think I can't do anything right, do you? This is all just a big damn joke? Well just you wait, asshole._

He turned back around to the ongoing shouting match between England and Sealand the gears in his head already turning. "No I won't go home!" Sealand was shouting. This is insane... this is totally insane... "You guys are gonna do it, I heard you through the phone tap-" But dammit it'll serve him right...  
"Cor Blimey! You've been tapping my phone, too?" _God, how old is he anyway, fifty? Sixty? If that body is older than twelve I'll-_  
"You didn't bank on the top notch special forces the great Kingdom of Sealand has, didja?"  
"Top notch? What that senile old bugger finally bought ickle Peter a mobile did he?"  
"That does it, that right there is treason!"  
"Treason? We are on British soil you nasty little rotter and-" _Alright, alright yeah I'm doing it..._

"He can stay, Arthur," Canada said, eyes dark and downright wicked. His voice wasn't any louder than it usually was, but somehow everyone in the room seemed to hear him blatantly staring at the declaration. Sealand himself even looked surprised but recovered far more quickly than the rest, readjusting his hat and drawing himself up.  
"Ha! See!" He sauntered past England, looking up at Canada with childish confidence. "Even the great United States of America wants a piece of this." Canada refrained from correcting him though America shrieked in the background "stop calling that stupid canuck America!" No one paid him any mind. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, hands clasped innocently behind his back, Sealand grinned just as America glared and looked at his brother.  
"Haha, very funny, Mattie. Tell spanky to get lost and then maybe you can get me out of this crap, too and we can go home and-."  
"Are you telling me what to do, Al?" Canada asked, his voice dropping deadly quiet even as he interrupted him. And America recognized that shift in tone but seemed unwilling to process what was right in front of him.

"You can't be serious! You are not even thinking about... Dammit, Mattie, I am **so** not letting you do this!" He started pulling harder on the chains again, twisting and bracing himself with his feet. Next to him, Russia informed him a little too cheerfully that if he kept up he was going to dislocate his shoulder.  
"Letting, Al?" Yeah, there was definitely that sliver of defiant steel in his voice now and even England could've told him he was treading on thin ice. _You just don't get it, do you Al? You think I'm some weak, useless loser who can't get by without you. You think I can't assert myself or make decisions without you butting your stupid unwelcome head in. You think you're gonna tell me what do to? You think you're gonna tell me to turn into your own fucking blowup doll and turn myself on and off like a switch. Well guess what, you're not running this rodeo, **I** am! _

"Alright, America-"  
"I'm Canada," he supplied again automatically the plan already forming rather beautifully. With America's eyes fully on him, he smiled as Sealand declared that he was going to show "America" what a real man was. _You watching, Al? You getting a good look? Just you wait, it's only getting better from here, asshole._  
"Matthew, I'm not sure I'd advise you do this," Austria said looking concerned.  
"Trust me." Hand cupping the side of Sealand's face, he sat back on the table, equaling their heights out and leaned forward to kiss him gently. It was chaste and brief, but hearing America yelling his fool head in the background it was fucking worth it. Ha! _Had you going there, didn't I, Al? Well let's just see how much I can really piss you off._

A part of him felt a little guilty for leading the micronation on, but this was war dammit and there were bound to be casualties. Canada smiled at him thinking that those big blue eyes were just too adorable as they stared at him wide and Canada cupped the side of that soft baby face with a small smile and a soft question of, "Should I show you the proper way to do it, Peter?" And England had just sighed and sat back on the other table with a shake of his head muttering how the lot of them were going to be the death of him.  
"You know you love us, Daddy," Canada sang unaware of how easily the roleplay became reality and he didn't even notice the worried frown on Austria's face at the address. And he tilted his head and swiped at that cute little pink mouth teasing, removing Sealand's hat and setting it aside because if America was gonna throw a big shit fit about it he might as well give him something to holler about.

And Canada could hear England grumbling still even as he dialed some number in his mobile- Sweden if Canada had to guess- but that really wasn't terribly important because he had other things to attend to right now and if he had to be honest, the micronation while obnoxious as hell was also terribly cute and tasted so young and fresh that Canada just couldn't help ignore that inconvenient little impulse control that England liked to bitch at him for ignoring and kiss him again. And this time it wasn't a teasing flick of his tongue but a full open mouth kiss and wasn't America in the background just so jealous watching his brother and lover locking lips with such a "joke". Well the joke was on him because Canada moaned softly as Sealand followed his lead and opened that small mouth and let Canada taste every bit of him.

And when Canada pulled back again shooting America that little smirk, the micronation blinked a few times wide eyed as England scolded the both of them once more and barely managed a whispered retort of "I bet mine's bigger than yours, jerk England." Canada was looking rather pleased with himself as he raised an eyebrow to America in challenge and his brother yelled back at him that he was nothing but a little asshole and he better knock it off right now because this so wasn't funny.  
"Did we?..." Sealand pressed his hand to his mouth and then looked down, seeming to try and giest what had just happened.  
"Hmm?" Canada was only half paying attention as he continued to play with those soft, baby fine locks of hair.  
"Did we just do it?" And Canada almost choked at the question while Prusia cackled and America screamed "Omygawd no and you better not you crazy canuck!"

Canada looked down again with a soft laugh and he shook his head thinking that as amusing as America was that he could definitely push it a **little** bit further without incident and really he didn't get much opportunity to tease his brother so effectively!  
"No... no there's a little more to it than that but... well I don't know..." He looked back at America just barely resisting the urge to stick his tongue out because he was gonna be damned if he let him or anyone else tell him what to do. And Sealand just clapped his hands together enthusiastically the big grin on his face.  
"Alright, America let's do this!" Russia laughed softly at that and Canada heard some comment about America's infamous immigration before he found himself pounced with the enthusiasm of a thousand rabbits.

Caught off guard, Canada was knocked backwards onto the table. He blinked a few times surprised by just how strong the young micronation was but then he remembered that soccer game he played once with Seaborga and supposed he shouldn't underestimate them just because of population. Okay well maybe just a little more messing around wouldn't kill anyone right? It wasn't like he couldn't just shove the other off if things got too crazy and- _Holy mother of maple how many hands does he have?_ Because Canada was pretty sure Sealand only had one set up hands but he could swear there were hands pushing at his hoodie and grabbing his crotch at the same time as Sealand proclaimed rather dramatically,  
"Alright! I'm claiming your breasts in the name of Sealand!"

Canada dimly heard the sound of a chair hitting the floor As Prussia fell out of it laughing while Germany simply stared. At least that's what he was picturing because he couldn't exactly see with the red shirt half over his head as he struggled to undo the tangle that seemed to have magically appeared out of nowhere although he was pretty sure that even with his compromised hearing he'd heard America yelling that Canada never let **him** go this far in public and England was vowing to have a long talk with South Korea about setting a proper example at conferences.  
"You have to admire his enthusiasm," Russia said leaning against the wall with a smile and just Austria sighed as if he somehow had seen this coming.

All the noise of course wasn't helping one bit when he finally wrenched the shirt back down Prussia cackling like a damn rooster even on the floor. _Why me? Why does crap like this always happen to me? _Because no that couldn't just be the end of it, the second he fixed his shirt, Canada reached up about to shove the young nation off when he felt those wet, sloppy lips mashed against his own. His hands were on Sealand's shoulders pushing, even as the other slobbered over his mouth like a happy puppy.  
"Mmm!"  
"You fucking pervert, Mattie!" America yelled indignantly. _How on earth do you look at this and think I'm liking it you jerk?_ He'd have yelled just that if Sealand wasn't fucking vacuumed to his mouth. Canada shoved him with earnest and thank god that worked because he'd had enough embarrassment for one lifetime already.  
"Oh yeah, you like that don't you baby?"

"Peter." He forcibly removed the small hands from his chest letting go only when he thought the other was finally going to calm down. He steadfastly ignored that poking into his stomach because there was **no** way he was feeling that. "Get-"  
"On with it, I know!"  
"That is not what I meant!" Which only resulted in the full weight of the micronation propelling him backwards once more as Sealand exclaimed "Hostile takeover!" Canada swore as his had cracked the table and he swore the room moved or something as his hands clutched at his head with a pained hiss. And ohmygod Sealand was wiggling between his legs like a damn eel as soon as he had the chance! Great, Even Germany was attempting to hide a soft laugh behind a cough and fucking America finally got a clue when Russia giggled and that was somehow even worse than him thinking his brother was a pedophile. _Why me… God, why the hell do you hate me? Did Arthur even get a hold of Berwald? _

He took a few deep breaths because crap that really hurt and realized that the other was dry humping him like they were actually doing it or something and Christ couldn't he have just two seconds for his head to stop trying to crack like a melon before having to deal with **that**?  
"Okay, enough, get off you- what are you doing?" Canada's voice rose a few octaves as he attempted to scoot backwards because he could at least keep a hold on his throbbing head while doing that but nope, nothing doing there, Sealand just scooted with him like this was a stupid game and not some creepy backwards bad touch scenario. Canada's first instinct upon realizing he was dangerously close to the micronation actually stripping or something was to shove him off the table, but he didn't really want to hurt him; this was partly his fault after all for encouraging this craziness

Still, watching America join in the laughter he was finished. He was done, he didn't care how stupidly this had backfired he was ending it. "We are **done** here!" Canada screamed deciding that just this once he wasn't about to give a damn if anyone got hurt or not. Sitting up, foot about to kick him clear across the room, Canada saw England appear like he'd really wished he'd done about five stupid minutes ago and haul the micronation up by the shirt collar like a mother cat. In that same moment, Sealand was weirdly still as he clutched at Canada's hips and Canada could see that dark wet spot on- _Oh god you did not just... Oh god I think I'm gonna be sick..._ Canada practically threw himself off the table just as England handed the little monster off the Germany a hand over his mouth so he didn't just throw up- of course that might've been the blossoming concussion too but at this point he kinda didn't care- right as there was a rap at the door and some low pitched talking he couldn't understand. As long as he lived he never hoped to see such an expression ever again. Dimly, he heard America and Prussia both laughing and something that sounded like Sealand shouting "Ha! Take that world, I just scored with America!" as Germany hauled him bodily out of the room.  
"...I'm Canada," he mumbled miserably as he pushed off the table with a sigh.

America had finally stopped laughing when he took in the half defeated expression on Canada's face. Prussia too quieted himself with a few carefully whispered words from Austria. _See, Mattie, this is exactly what I'm talking about. This is why you need me you take care of you. I mean really? Did you really think you were gonna come in like be all hot and sexy and I'd go "oh hey Mattie, I was totally wrong I can't believe I ever thought you made a better girl? See this is the kind of shit that happens to you all the time. This is the kind of stuff I just want to protect you from._  
"Aww, c'mon bro, cheer up," America offered sympathetically. "It's not the worst thing that's ever happened to you."  
"You have Alfred for a brother to start," Russia offered and America shot him a dirty look for sticking his big nose in where it didn't belong.  
"Shuttup Ivan." he looked around the room with a perfect amount of self righteousness. "All of you oughta be ashamed of yourselves for talking poor Mattie into this."

_Poor Mattie?_ Canada looked at America, wide eyes narrowing as his brother continued to talk.  
"I mean jeez, look at him, he's a total mess 'cause of you jerks and your stupid ideas." Canada's hands wrung at the shirt as America talked trying not too hard to pretend it wasn't America's neck. _I think I can survive a little fucking embarrassment, Mr. Hero... _America clanked the chain insistently. "Hey, how about you untie me and we can go catch a movie or you can have a good cry on my shoulder or something. I mean this so isn't you Mattie. You're just not cut out for crap like this. I mean you need to leave all that to like porn stars or James Bond or something 'cause I mean even Inspector Gadget wouldn't get boned by that little pipsqueak. And I mean this is what you come up with? Francis isn't even here and I don't even think "living" is on his criteria of things he'll bang." America waved his arm as best as he could indicated everyone in the room. "You got a guy who loves kicking me when I'm down-"  
"'Cause it's so fun," Russia added smiling.  
"Your best friend's fucking boyfriends..." He looked at Austria. "Right? You're fucking both of them, right?" Arms crossed, Austria tossed his head haughtily with a snort. "I don't believe that's any of your business but please, do go on digging yourself in deeper, Alfred."

_Ass.. Christ why the hell are you friends with this douchebag? _America looked at the strange expression on his brother's face and pressed on ignoring that strange pang in his head that normally told him when something was a bad idea; he usually called that his funstopper gland. "And Arthur... I mean, dude, that's like your mom telling you you're cute." And he was pretty sure he might've gone on awhile longer about foreign relations being something that Canada really ought to let a superpower like him handle and okay yeah he was babbling now but he really just wanted his brother to knock all this crazy shit off and start acting like his normal "whatever you say, Al" self because really what use was a hero with no one to save?. "So yeah, let's go home and I'll make it all better, 'kay?"

It was almost cute the way America looked at him like he really believed Canada needed him to ride in like some clich on a white horse. Canada took it all in, proud of himself for not freaking out and just cusing America out and listing off everything that was wrong with that plan and America himself and eve his country and reminded himself he was here to prove a point. He turned away, making sure America still had a damn good view and looked at England feigning shyness before glancing down at the floor, twisting a sneakered foot. He looked up adorably from beneath the hair around his face and the smile he gave England was enough to make America stop short, and Canada could see that same off jealous flicker that he'd seen in the club that night and i gave him strength.  
"I don't need you to be my hero, Al. I can save myself..." Realizing they were about to pick up where they left off, England walked back over to him, once again reaching up, hand once more on the back of his neck and yeah maybe it was a little staged but he could relax and let Daddy lead him wherever he needed to go. "But even then... I have daddy to kiss it better, don't I?"  
"Of course you do, Matthew." And this time they weren't interrupted. This time America was really going to see just what made him keep going back for more.

Canada didn't often kiss England. Their encounters were usually far more rough and ritually sadistic and the older nation preferred not to indulge in a whole lot intimacy- of course that made moments like this al the sweeter. But all in all, Canada usually felt like a whore and was surprised half the time that he didn't find money on the dresser when they were finished. When England kissed him it also tended to be little more than a perfunctory display of affection before or after intercourse or the type of feigned fatherly chasteness that made Canada feel just sinfully turned on by the fact that he was even turned on.. And for the longest time he just chalked it up to the other's culture until he came to realize that no, that was just how England was. So when England pulled him down and tilted his head to bring their mouths together, Canada wasn't expecting a whole lot; it turned out with proper motivation, he could pull a hell of a lot out of his bag of tricks when he had something to prove.

_Is he wearing chapstick? _England's lips were soft and warm pressed against his and he found it was far easier than he would've thought to forget about America and the rest of the nations now sitting down watching them. The kiss was a soft butterfly touch and England's tongue soon swiped at his lips with a gentle tease. The wet tongue painted over his lips, urging them apart, and Canada complied somewhat breathless. He hadn't realized that he'd even been maneuvered backwards until he felt the back of his thighs hit the long conference table and he definitely didn't notice if his head was still aching. Canada shifted more comfortably, half seated on it, bringing himself down to England's height. He felt those nimble fingers threading through his hair, twining around the fine blonde strands slowly tugging harder and harder in a delirious counterpoint to the languid motion of England's tongue twining wet circles around his own.

Canada's hands at his sides gripped the table hard; he knew that England- especially when England was playing Daddy like he was now- didn't like him touching without permission and oh that just made it all the better when he finally was allowed the privilege. His knuckles were white and he felt the hard particle board scraping beneath his nails. England had nudged his legs apart with a knee as he'd settled himself, and he stood now, lower body angled so that his hip pressed against the other's groin. He shifted and rocked against him, always pressing, always keeping what Canada truly wanted just out of his reach. Canada moaned softly, his breath hitching at the contact already dying to touch England's cock and god, America knew how to fucking play him perfectly when he was a woman, why the fuck couldn't he make him want it this badly the rest of the time? Except of course that America wasn't and never would be England and even a perfectly executed impersonation just wouldn't... No, no it **would** have to do it because this wasn't normal. Normal would be getting England out of his system and getign very single bit of sexual fulfillment from America alone like it should be. Right... god he was fucked.

_That's a good lad... _England always enjoyed the sweet obedience that Canada had allowed him when they fucked. As docile as he seemed, and as perfectly as he'd been trained to acquiesce he never truly obeyed otherwise anywhere else, passive aggressive little snot that he was. No, there was always a biting remark or some other subtle defiance that England sometimes overlooked just to keep Canada guessing. Oh, but when England pulled that hair and ground against him and made those lovely little whimpers claw from his throat, he knew he had him. He knew that when Canada agreed to this and swore this wold be the last that it would really only be the beginning. Fucking America liked to bandy about his size like it was the damn be all end all, but England knew that was only a small part of the equation and he was going to show it. _Keep watching, Alfred, maybe you'll learn a thing or two. _

He felt Canada's thigh squeeze around him as the young nation rocked against him. England slapped his thigh hard in chastisement without missing a beat and Canada sighed with that perfectly conditioned response.  
"Please, daddy," he whispered softly, his face flushed. England loved how deliciously he asked without even needing to be instructed anymore. A sidelong glance to America showed the loudmouthed wanker was gaping at them stupidly as if he couldn't quite process what was happening.  
"If you keep your mouth open like that, Alfred, you're going to catch flies." Austria said to him without looking up from the novel he'd brought.

Canada barely heard him; England had drawn him into a breathless open mouth twining of tongues and Canada could taste the mix of wintermint and tea. His attention had been focused more on the painful grip in his hair and the smell of vanilla and tobacco. He wanted to bury his face in England's neck and breathe in deeply and drown in that fucking scent 'cause god if he ever did have a father still living that's exactly what he'd smell like. Just thinking about it made his dick even harder. _You remembered I said that too, didn't you Daddy? And here I thought you'd forgotten **everything** about me… But you really did make this about me today, didn't you?_

Breathless, Canada blinked, licking the lingering bitter minty taste from his lips, rolling his tongue around his own palette to savor the last essence of England when the other pulled back. England released his hold, the back of his hand drawing down Canada's face. His voice was firm and controlled as he stepped back.  
"Go on then, love, show daddy what you've brought him today." He took a seat on the plastic blue chair, crossing a leg like the perfect patient father. Canada took a deep breath and felt his knees give for just a moment before he pushed off the table. England was watching, his eyes already undressing and fucking him where he stood. Canada caught a glimpse of America out of the corner of his eye and noticed the challenging expression. He remembered that night. He remembered when America held him and forced him to fucking piss himself and asked him if he'd ever do that for England. _You asked me if I'd piss myself for Arthur? You should've asked me if Arthur even needs to do shit like that to prove he's in control. I'd do anything for Daddy, Al._ He felt his pulse quicken in that excited way it always didn't and he had no idea how deep he really was. _Anything at all... _

Canada walked to the front of the conference room where both England and America had a clear view. Standing in front of the whiteboard with England having a front row seat, Canada toyed with the white drawstrings at his neck.  
"Do you like looking at me, daddy?" he asked in that perfectly contrived innocent voice eyes only for England. He looked down, foot scuffing at the floor before looking up again as if uncertain. In moments like this he almost felt as if he were a child again looking up and not down at the powerful nation seated in front of him and as England pretended to consider the question and took the meerschaum pipe and silver snuff box from his pants pocket Canada couldn't help the soft, "oh god," that escaped him.

America was watching curiously, thankful that the conference room- made to accommodate around thirty or so- was small enough that Canada wasn't more than fifteen feet away. It made it far easier to see his brother and yet as he watched, he wasn't so sure that it was a good thing after all. He had no idea what the fuck England was pulling out but judging by the expression on Canada's face it sure as hell wasn't his dick cause last he remembered England's cock was about as impressive as his sense of dress- at least that's what France had told him. He wasn't jealous, fuck no he wasn't jealous 'cause there wasn't a damn thing Canada ever did that was worthy of- Fuck, Mattie when was the last time you looked at me like that? _God if I thought for a second you ever remembered how to act like fucking wasn't just one big headache…_

He wondered if the others had noticed as well. The other three who were all going to fuck his brother and no… no way in hell, there was no way Canada was really gonna do some porn star guinness breaking gangbang… right?  



	3. Chapter 3

Note: We are now getting deep into the England/Canada. I'm glad this hadn't taken as long but it's later parts that will probably need more work. Thank you for your comments and enjoy! :)

Canada's eyes flickered to him, the ghost of a smile skirting his countenance before his entire focus returned to England with a fury. America hid an indignant scowl and tried to turn his attention elsewhere so he wouldn't give that little jerk the satisfaction of seeing it bother him. God, that was a mistake. Watching fucking Prussia and Germany practically drooling over his brother wasn't helping and even Austria's complete indifference wasn't enough to temper the aggravation he felt when he turned his head the other way and saw Russia's hungry look from where he leaned against the back wall. It took everything he had to force his expression neutral. But fuck, hearing England's "Of course daddy likes looking at you Matthew," and seeing Canada's answering smile was killing him. _Alright, Mattie, what now huh? I mean this is the part where you turn around and say that I'm being punk'd or something, right? There's no way you're gonna do more than- _He swallowed when Canada stopped toying with the strings and pulled the hoodie over his head careful not to take the shirt with it- Christ he was too good at teasing.

Canada was still wearing a faded black T shirt underneath that clung like a fucking second skin that America hadn't noticed before when his brother was getting molested by Sealand but without that pint sized distraction, America could definitely see how that material clung to his slim hips. Canada didn't immediately remove the shirt, instead looking up and seeking approval from England. The older nation was still seated with an utterly dismissive air about him- fucking prick just loved toying with people didn't he?- as he easily filled the antique Victorian pipe with vanilla tobacco.

Canada looked like he was fucking hypnotized by those long slender fingers pinching and stuffing the first bit careful to pack it in only a little and then tighter with the second. America still maintained that cancer bowl was seriously gross. And England turned the pipe carefully, packing the tobacco evenly and methodically, the precious antique rotating, his forefinger circling inside and Christ how did that old fossil make that look so damn sexual? Canada tugged the shirt up as England added the third pinch, wringing the hem as if he were unsure before drawing it up between his teeth shyly revealing the smooth skin and hard muscles of his stomach and America swallowed hard.  
"More, daddy?" he asked in his usual soft voice, and yet somehow that meek tone was tinged with an obvious need as he asked the teasing question which made America wonder what the hell he'd have to do to get to hear **that** voice directed at him.

Canada watched as England looked up with those smoldering green eyes for just an instant before patting his other pants pocket for the old butane lighter and if it wasn't for that near imperceptible hitch of breath before he went back to lighting the pipe, Canada would've sworn he was nothing but an afterthought. England had always been so hatefully skilled at ignoring him.  
"Don't dawdle, Matthew," he chastised cradling the pipe gently as Canada's violet eyes greedily watched the flame of the old lighter flickering in a small circle around the top of the chamber and then drank in England taking the bit between his soft lips drawing it in. He tamped it down so consciously, so deliberately with the small metal tamper- _no, Al the other part isn't a fucking coke spoon_- making it glow so beautifully. He pulled it back and Canada swallowed and nodded, voicing a strained, "I'm sorry daddy." He pulled the shirt off slowly, torturing himself even as he missed the second circling of the lighter after the false light and Prussia whistled in the background when the rest of Canada's naked torso was revealed.

America spared a glare for Prussia that went completely ignored. With nothing else to look at- he didn't need to watch Russia's fucking creepy ass leer, thank you- he watched his brother. It was impossible not to compare male and female Canada as he did so and somehow in this situation, Canada's male side didn't seemed to be nearly as lacking as he remembered. Had he been working out or something? No, no dammit that wasn't it, but there was something about his brother's broad shoulders, his skin just a shade more pale than his own, the defined ridges of muscle and dammit why the fuck was Canada looking at England like the stodgy old asshole was holding a bottle of maple syrup or the fucking hope diamond in his hand? America sniffed, smelling that unmistakable whiff of vanilla smoke and he wrinkled his nose. _Oh god not that nasty pipe; it doesn't even have a fucking filter. I thought Artie threw that old thing out decades ago. Jeez, Mattie I can't believe you actually like that shit._

_Oh god, yes thank you. _Canada thought in an opposite turn as he set the shirt aside and blatantly ogled the black pipe stem that disappeared between England's lips. His own mouth was suddenly so dry and as he watched England close his eyes and inhale, his shaking hands stopped at the button of his jeans, watching the faint glow from the top of the chamber, dead to every other sight and sound in the room. He could smell the smoke almost as soon as it diffused in his direction, he was already breathing more deeply to drown in the vanilla tobacco haze and he found himself taking a few precious steps backwards, hitting the whiteboard, his own eyes closing losing himself in their little scene cause God England could make it so fucking good when he wanted to and if this was going to be that last time he was going to remember and savor every last touch and smell and even the soft deliberately accentuated _fffuuuu_ of England blowing out. _Yes daddy, more daddy, please god don't ever let this end... _

Canada moaned and America goggled as he watched his brother's body arch, his shoulders flat on the whiteboard. Canada's fingers trailed down his chest as if he were trying to rub the thick smoke into his body and America could see his feet rock, saw him rise up on the balls of his feet, the ratty old sneakers somehow adding to the sensual dance as if he were already being fucked and he wondered just when his brother- who wouldn't even enter a damn bar if there was smoke- had been replaced by some amped up pod person. _Fucking hell Mattie, how much shit have you been lying about or hiding? This really isn't the first time you two have done this... God you have a fucking routine and everything..._ Not that he had a whole lot of time for serious contemplation when he felt that damn telltale warmth and heat and cursed up a mental blue streak at his dick for not realizing how imperative it was to stay the fuck down.

And England breathed in deeply, the familiar warmth in his lungs caressing him from the inside like an old friend, and he took the time to savor it, blowing a long stream of smoke out blissfully. It wasn't often he indulged like this, America complained and France preferred those cheap and easy cigarettes and Canada was really the only one who seemed to share any real appreciation for a fine bit of pipe tobacco and it had really become something rather intimate between the two of them besides. He'd set the lighter down, right hand still holding onto the pipe stem as he smoked. In his left hand he caressed the old snuff box like a lover, his thumb running along the smooth curves and ample breasts of the woman carved into it ages ago with a delicate artist's touch. The curl of smoke seemed to undulate in the still air lingering like the mist of a dream and England watched from where he sat as Canada's hands moved long enough to drop to the button of his jeans but once again remained in stasis as he let the smoke wrap around him.

England reclined back like the most regal of kings and inhaled, exhaled, the top of the pipe's chamber burning brightly as he did. The glow mirrored in Canada's eyes and without looking away from the stream of smoke passing from England's lips, his shaking hands undid the button and zipper. He toed out of his sneakers and paused when England instructed him to leave the socks; they slouched in a way that Japan would've likely found arousing were he there and just that small gesture was enough to make him feel so young and uncertain and so damn hard at the same time as he absently readjusted his glasses and looked down then over the rims. And Canada looked at England with a perfect contrived bashfulness because as much as England inspired that immature and unfettered side of him he was still a full grown nation who knew just how to act to get what he wanted and just how to turn his father figure on the most in turn. And as he stood in front of the lot of them wearing nothing but a pair of short red boxer briefs his love of their game was obvious.

"Jesus Christ, kid where the hell were you hiding that thing?" Prussia exclaimed, staring at the prominent tent in the tight cloth. Canada made no attempt to hide the blush at the unaccustomed attention and the variance in their routine of the others in the room and he shifted somewhat uncertainly as both Germany and Russia joined in the staring as well. Austria's brows knit in annoyance when Prussia jostled him with a rather obnoxious, "God, specs, whatever the hell boring music theory you're reading can't be hotter than this."  
"You act as if you've never seen another's man's genitalia before," Austria replied curtly without looking up. He turned, book held tightly as Prussia swiped for it.  
"C'mon, princess, we're not talking just any dick here, even **you** haven't-"  
"Yes, as a matter of fact I have now if you don't mind..." He waved him away clearly irritated and ignored every badgering question from his lover at **that** revelation until Prussia finally sat back with an annoyed humph. Feet on the table in front of him, he shouted out loudly ignoring Germany's shushing,  
"Hey kid, show us the goods already!"

Canada was still, breathing heavily, and America clamped his mouth before he could yell at the lot of them to shut the hell up and stop staring his fucking brother or yell at Canada to put some fucking clothes on because this wasn't a damn session for trade agreements and no one needed to see his fucking package or the outline of it or anything else. America forced himself to look at the ceiling, to block out Russia's stupid fucking comment at his side of "well it **is** the second largest land mass," and remember that he was here because Canada was a sore fucking loser and just couldn't stand that America finally called him out on how-. America swallowed when Canada turned those violet eyes on him for just an instant- useless of a guy he was. He dimly heard England in the background saying "Ignore them, boy, focus on me, right?" and he wanted to shout at that limey asshole 'cause he sure as shit didn't just tell Canada to ignore him. _Ignore **me**? You can't ignore me, I'm the whole reason the lot of you fuckers are here! I'm the whole reason you're even doing this stupid show in the first place you jerk!_

Canada however found himself brought back to focus, smiled softly, and dutifully obeyed England, keeping his attention on the older nation. And it's not like it was hard to do while he was watching those lips smoke that pipe, watching those fingers holding the chamber as he exhaled the warm masculine puff of smoke; it was fucking hypnotizing. And when England finally ordered "come on then, let daddy have a look at you," it was all he could do to approach slowly, hesitant, eyes flickering between the pipe and those vivid green eyes. He nodded, tucking his hair back behind an ear, ducking his head, trying hard to control his breathing as England blew another stream so close he could feel the warm smoke on his face. Canada licked his lips trying to taste it as he stood before him, nibbling on a finger because dammit he needed something to put in his mouth and he knew that America would recognize the gesture even if it'd been ages since Canada's oral fixation was turned so fixedly to him.

England looked him up and down keeping his features impassive, hiding his amusement at Canada's obsession with the old pipe. _You'd rather I bugger you with this, I swear... _He took another long drag of the pipe, eyes half shut enjoying the warmth and the full flavor of the tobacco and then gestured for Canada to turn around with a twist of his index finger.  
"Naughty lad," he said as he glanced to the other's obvious arousal. "I think you enjoy this far too much." His expression was thoughtful as he watched Canada turn in a circle for him taking note as the other nation still subtly sought his approval. He let an unseen smile flash at Canada's back. _Really think you're rid of me so easily, Matthew? You're looking at the pipe like a bloody addict and I can see your hands shaking. You think a little last slap and tickle is gonna get two hundred years of me out of your mind? We'll just see then. _Because Canada's pupils were flickering back and forth like Prussia's were wont to do except it wasn't an odd genetic tic but that overwhelming need he'd fostered in him. It was fucking brilliant.

Canada shifted discreetly and as if ignoring him again England tipped his head back, puffing a cloud of smoke upwards humoring his little play for independence, his countenance considering. He put the small silver box back in his pants pocket and stood up, holding the stem of the pipe as if it were made for his hand.  
"Is this what you think about when you have a wank, boy?" he asked waving it back and forth watching Canada's eyes follow it like a hypnotist's pocket watch. Canada swallowed hard and nodded, letting England back him up to the desk at the front of the room.  
"Yes daddy," he answered in a breathy hush. "I think about it… and you." His hands caught the edge of the wooden desk and he shivered when England brought the lip of the pipe back to his mouth wondering what the hell was wrong with him that he let that last bit slip out so easily because God that was just the problem: that he couldn't stop thinking about England. Because England wasn't some one off like South Korea and Canada whined softly as he watched the bowl glow again and he shut his eyes excited when England blew the smoke right into his face.

Only England and himself showed no surprise that he didn't cough. Canada didn't smoke, but he did so have that urge to hang around here and there when others were, closing his eyes, inhaling, imagining a hundred years ago on his knees sucking England's cock in front of the fireplace while the older nation inhaled, exhaled, in out and oh god his own cock fucking hurt so much he wanted to touch it and he could just hear that internal scolding to keep his hands back, his head bowed and focus only on England's pleasure and how he'd come to realize that pleasing England pleased him Christ there was no way he was making it through this with a clean break.  
"Daddy..." he breathed out as he smelled the thick smoke, the vanilla, that something that was only England that he could smell now that he was close enough again.  
"Open up for daddy, love," he heard England command and he kept his lips parted, leaning in, his entire body excited, the darkness disrupting his equilibrium and making him dizzy but oh god England was breathing the warm smoke into his mouth, so damn close to him that he could reach out and touch if he so dared.

Canada felt the heat seep into his lungs, felt his breath hitch and he panted out a delirious, "thank you, daddy" unaware of just how wide eyed America was staring as if he'd never before seen his brother so fucking aroused without any physical contact or a naked girlie magazine or fucking something that made sense. _God, Mattie why the fuck didn't you tell me you got off on that shit? Christ I woulda killed to see you like that 'cause of me when were weren't just sitting around high on the fucking beanbag chairs 'cause you probably would've been just as hard watching the fucking lava lamp the way that crap alays messed with you head. You don't need fucking Eyebrows to get you hot, dammit! You have me. Me! You know how many nation want a fucking piece of this? Do you have any idea how much play I could be fucking getting if I wasn't so hung up on... _He shook his head and just barely stopped himself from stomping his foot on the floor like he used to when they were kids and it made that loud fulfilling bang on the wood. Fuck no he wasn't giving his brother the satisfaction.

He continued to fume silently and Austria, peering up discreetly over the edge of the novel caught it and took a small mental note in his well organized mind. Good, all was going according to plan, then on that end. He also managed a quick glance to the others, and seeing Germany's hungry look he felt more than justified in breaking that ridiculous PDA; he had others and heavens, this was worth far more than twenty minutes if America's barely restrained anger was any indication. Though he couldn't help but worry about Canada he knew he'd just have to have faith in all the sessions and work they put in because surely as with any mind control once one **recognized** themselves a victim it was impossible for them to fall back into it. England might have conditioned him but he knew that when Canada put his mind to something he'd see it through. Perhaps Austria needed to discreetly involve America more in the scene... He added that to the ongoing mental file as he continued to skim the pages of the novel he'd read a thousand times before trusting Canada to work through this unhealthy fixation on his own.

Canada was glad that France wasn't here; his other father figure would never understand the nature of their relationship and he certainly wouldn't understand that this was necessary for him to never need it again. Good God that made a lot more sense this morning when it was just him and Kumojima in front of the mirror. Because he knew exactly what England was going to do- every manner of execution and his body was already thrumming and hyper aware and want and as he breathed in the warm smoke and felt the burn in his lungs and felt more than heard England susserate out "Now show daddy how you touch yourself when I'm not here," he was back in that old study again still a virgin standing naked before the older nation for inspection.

He was back in the dimly lit room where the fireplace and the gas lamp cast shadows on the wall and made England loom so damn large in his mind he didn't hesitate when the other kicked his feet apart and drug the pipe chamber down the hollow of his throat, circled him like a major general and ordered him on his knees on the hard wooden floor. And then in his memories he was kneeling down, touching himself, watching as England stroked his cock through his trousers, whimpering as England berated and denigrated and finally brought him off with his fucking foot. He'd forbidden him from ever touching another nation back then refusing to touch him with his hands in turn even as Canada had his cock shoved halfway down his willing throat and god by the time he was finally allowed to it was like being reborn and fuck he had to bring his mind back from that place because he just couldn't get sucked back into that beautiful darkness again.

And it wasn' England who'd had him first besides, it was taken from him that day in 1918 when they threw Austria down and England proclaimed him the spoils of war, finally conceding it was a joke only when the aristocrat looked about to kill him and Canada looked about to rip the buttons from his uniform fidgeting, furious at the very thought that England would do such a thing right in front of him. But then Austria looked at Canada and with a nasty smile acquiesced to the ridiculous demand forcing England's hand, taking what the gentleman had been saving and priming all for himself; they still were barely on speaking terms as individuals. And thinking of Austria brought him back, the other his trained focus away and he forced himself to focus on the seated nation reading the old book and not lose himself . He was back to the present in a matter of seconds when England stepped back. Canada smiled at him feeling more in control because he could do this without sinking in so deep he lost himself- that perfect smile that was only for daddy- and pushed the tight shorts down to the ground letting the lot of them get a good look as he stepped out not quite having to feign shyness at the others seeing him.

England let his gaze slowly move up and down the body of his former colony, moving from the soft shoulder length hair half hiding Canada's face to the hollow of his throat and down to his chest. England recalled the woman's shape that the other sometimes wore, the one that America seemed so ruddy obsessed with, and definitely felt the hard cording of muscles definitely suited his male self better. Canada's body was far stronger than most of them would've guessed and infinitely more defined than the shapeless garments he favored would suggest. Oh but England certainly did appreciate having this to himself for so long and even after all these years Canada held still for his inspection waiting so obediently as England's eyes took the place of his hands in caressing the cut pectorals, the ripple of his stomach and those slender hips that had just the right dimple for holding fast to.

And England unlike the rest, he didn't linger terribly long on the large uncut erection. While he enjoyed the feel of the heavy cock in his hand, the prominent vein running delightfully along the underside, he much preferred to focus his attention on Canada's other prominent assets. Of course those large breasts weren't there on Canada's natural form and while the nipples of Canada's female body were dusky pink and delightfully large the small hard nubs standing out now from the faint chill of the room were no less enticing and a sight he was far more accustomed to. England took the pipe and gently ran the bowl around one, prodding, watching Canada squirm and struggle to hold still.  
"Well go on, then," he said looking back up, making Canada feel as if he were instead looking down, and taking the cue, Canada licked his lips and moved his hand up to take the place of the pipe to pinch and squeeze the hard nub only half as hard as England knew he really liked because the buildup always had been more than half the fun for him; he'd conditioned him well.

Sometimes when he was feeling particularly deviant he pretended that it was his brother's body he was groping and not his own. It was easy to caress, the fondle his own chest knowing how close it felt to America's and he could pretend it was his brother's tanned muscle that he squeezed and massaged without the loudmouth telling him to hurry up and get to the good stuff. _"You're such a damn girl, can't you just put it in already?"_ America would always complain when he spent an extraneous amount of time worshipping his chest, always impatient to feel Canada fucking him. _Maybe I should've just ignored him,_ Canada thought as he pinched and tugged both nipples red. His head was turned faintly aside and he dug his nails into the soft skin whimpering. He was glad he was half seated on the table for support because his legs sure weren't going to hold him. England wasn't so close anymore but he could still feel him as if he were right there, his essence lingering in the air.

Canada opened his eyes again when he smelled another puff of smoke and saw that England had reseated himself, legs spread, palming his erection through the tan khakis thoroughly unrepentant because christ this show was all for him, wasn't it? Canada loved it when he could see how turned on his father figure was and he swallowed, mouth dry, wanting to sink to his knees and bury his face between England's legs right where Cornwall was and just fucking smell the musk of his arousal and sweat and the faint salty sea air that seemed to linger about him. _I do that to you, don't I, daddy?_ he thought excited, his focus dead to everyone in the room now but England and from the wall, still discreetly tugging at the chains America was wishing like hell it was him sitting there as the subject of Canada's lust and not some nasty old fart puffing on a fucking pipe.

"Daddy~" Canada purred making sure to keep his eyes locked with England as his slightly calloused palm circled his stiff cock. His thighs tensed, his entire lower body wanting to vibrate off the damn table when he gently, with such a torturous light touch, rubbed up the shaft. He tugged the foreskin of his cock up over the sensitive glans and back down breathing heavier, feeling the smoke in his lungs, tasting it, loving it, slit dribbling out precome and Canada circled his thumb around the head, milking more out cause the wetter he got the hotter he got and right now his cock was nearly at ninety fucking degrees flush to his stomach as he worked it. Palm flat, he rubbed his cock against his quivering stomach, getting the skin of his abdomen sticky and wet with the precome that leaked out thinking of all the times he'd frig himself as both man and woman til his underwear was soaked and he felt like the dirtiest little slut all for England. God, He'd spent so many fucking decades with nothing but his hand for company at England's direction, the older nation promising that the seemingly eternal wait would be well worth it, that he knew exactly how to tease himself, how to draw out every agonizing second until he thought he'd die.

And even after he'd slept with Austria and had gone to England repentant and not terribly sure there was anything left that he hadn't experienced, England had proved to his defiant territory that yes, daddy always did it masterfully. _"I told you, Matthew, that daddy knows best, didn't I?"_ That was what England had said to him as he lay limp half off the bed, the room spinning, his ass so wonderfully sore and leaking come and just thinking about that night Canada whimpered. He'd never trusted America to be that rough and perhaps he should've but fuck America was so much longer than England and had shown on more than one occasion he just couldn' fucking control himself when he was about to come and on some level he'd always made his brother nervous with his rush to the damn finish be it manifest destiny or ramming his dick into virgin territory in one swift motion. And that night in October America had held him against his will and forced compliance out of him in a fucking Blitzkrieg where England had spent decades breaking him down and conditioning him to respond just so, so fucking eagerly to his every subtle cue- there was no comparison. But still... why couldn't he just have them both?

And America seemed to sense it too as he watched his brother wantonly stroking himself in front of everyone in the fucking room where he could barely coax any dirty talk out of him without a roll of his eyes. He looked at the others, wondering if Austria excepted they all knew, they fucking knew that when he and his brother fucked it was with a sometimes heated but more often passive acquiescence and never with this much goddamn desire. _Why, Mattie? Why didn't I ever even know you had all this in you? I know you wanted me and I know I wanted you so badly but you'd push at me or tell me to slow the hell down or something. God I didn't even think you **had** this in you anymore. That one night at Woodstock was fucking incredible and then you just got all weird and pulled back. Until you turned into a fucking girl I didn't even think you liked it when we fucked anymore. _Hell, he'd thought that he'd had Canada's submission all along without even trying but looking at his brother chanting out a near religious, "daddydaddydaddy," he wondered what it even was that he and Canada had. _I loved you, I wanted you so why doesn't it work like this without a stupid magic trick?_

Canada, eyes hazy and half shut watched England who stared back with promise, and he stretched the foreskin of his cock over the head, pinched it tight, and brought his left hand up, index finger to his lips, teasing it with his tongue. _Do you remember?_ his expression said as he nipped the tip of his index finger, tongue circling, laving saliva, getting it good and wet. _Do you remember what it's like with my mouth around your cock, daddy?_ He teased England as he teased himself, moaning, the head of his cock continuing to stream a trickle of sticky precome inside the skin that he'd pinched off. Canada sucked that finger, adding a second, treating them both as if they were the best fucking thing he'd ever tasted. _Do you want me to fuck myself, daddy?_ He didn't even have to ask to know the answer.

England was unabashedly rubbing his cock hard through the thin khaki material, his breathing heavier, his lips parted just slightly around the pipe held with his teeth as he enjoyed the show that was solely for his benefit. His reward to Canada was a faint grin and another few precious puffs of smoke, this time in a series of expertly formed rings, rising up like clouds. He watched Canada squeak and bite his fingers harder unconsciously in response. _How hard did you bite them, Matthew?_ How much did I excite you? Canada loved to bite his fingers and when England pushed him just right, oh how he would torment himself. England hissed softly as he squeezed his cock harder and knowing just what would do it took a long, deep drag of the pipe and then exhaled a slow, steady stream. Without missing a beat at the same time he inhaled the thick smoke back through his nose and he watched Canada shake, bite down harder with a sobbing whine, and when he finally blew out the second breath England could see the blood trickling out the side of his mouth

_That's right, boy, you bleed so beautifully for daddy, don't you? And fuck you, frog, French inhale my arse, I knew that trick a damn sight longer than you ever did._ He saw Canada withdraw his fingers for his benefit alone and look down as the knuckles of his middle and index fingers bled. Canada let them bleed out, holding them exactly so that the blood dripped down obscenely onto his stomach, running in slender red trails through the ridges of muscle like a fucking maze. His lip had healed easily from earlier, mouth just the slightest tinge of red still, but the new wound flowed beautifully, and Canada, knowing how England loved watching the red of his blood pouring out, lapped at the tear slowly, languidly, forcing it to bleed even more, leaning back further so that the droplets that escaped dripped a series of pretty red splatters up to the hollow of his throat.

America went tense as a board as Russia next to him whispered in a lilting tease that only he could hear, "I didn't know your brother liked the taste of blood, Alfred. Maybe I'll let you watch him bleed even more when it's my turn, yes?" America's head turned and he jerked violently with a hiss, mad as fuck that the chains did little more than pull taut and loose a few piddling bits of drywall over top whatever the hell they were fastened to on the other side.  
"Back off, Ivan so help me I'll-" Out of the corner of his eyes he swore he saw Canada wink at him and he clamped his mouth shut, his body rigid. _You little asshole. I will **not** give you what you fucking want. Goddammit I will **not** make this that easy for you! _His eyes were furious but he forced his arms back down, forced himself to ignore fucking Russia's commentary on "his turn", forced himself to ignore Prussia loudly whispering to Germany how good a little cocksucker he must be and dammit why the fuck couldn't Canada have just talked to him?

Damn you, you passive aggressive little fucker I... dammit I know you think I wouldn't listen or some shit but how the hell do you not even try? How are you just gonna chain me up and make me watch all these guys fucking you! He steadfastly ignored the voice that said he hadn't seen his brother as being sexual in ages, that until now he joked they weren't exclusive but never for one second believed Canada actually was having sex with anyone other than him, didn't think that any one of them would even give his brother an honest to god second look. He ignored that nagging image of him constantly writing off Canada's usual mentioning of their relationship as useless junk that didn't warrant discussing and shit why were the chains so fucking strong?

Canada turned back and continued to focus solely on England, only barely hearing the clank of the chains in the background. The clear precome continued to pool in the stretched foreskin, causing it to start to balloon out just slightly and Canada whined the barest rush of endorphins from the injury, the throbbing sting turning him on even more, blurring that line between himself and England's obedient little colony who would do absolutely anything to be recognized and acknowledged and just even fucking **touched**. His nipples were still hard even though his body was hot as hell and not cold, and he let his fingers trail from his lips back to over his cheek to tuck another errant bit of hair behind his ear leaving a wicked red trail just tempting England to get up and lick it off because dammit England could play him but he could play too and he didn't spend all these years dead to what the other desired. His eyes were bright and he finally released the foreskin, slowly drawing it back letting the copious sticky fluid spill into his hand, some drizzling through his fingers onto the floor between his spread legs.

"I love it when you're inside me, daddy," he panted out to England as he stroked his cock, making it nice and wet, running his fingers beneath the foreskin over his cockhead, caressing and teasing more sticky clear fluid from the slit. England took another puff of the pipe, his hand only trembling slightly as he held the bowl. The show, only for him, was so damn sexually charged and bloody hell if he didn't just want to bend the little cocktease- he still thought of Canada as little even standing over him- over the desk and fuck him til he couldn't remember his own name. Ah, but that was the biggest part of their game after all- the steady excruciating climb until Canada was sobbing, his entire body shaking with need as he begged "daddy" to do anything to bring him off and he might think he was the one in control now but England knew that it would only take the right word, the right scene to bring him back to be his and show America that missing piece of the Canada puzzle that he just wasn't getting.

And now Canada was looking a right mess in fact. _Yes, Matthew, you're doing a fine job. Keep going until you can't stand it and maybe when you beg me nicely enough daddy will bend you over that table and fuck that sweet arse so Alfred can see exactly why you come for me when I bloody tell you and not for him. You really think he can do all this for you? You're mad as a bag of ferrets if you think that upstart brat knows the first thing about what you need. Your people might have outgrown the grown but the three of us will never be finished with each other._  
"Show me," England ordered and to the rest of them, his voice hadn't lost its crisp composure but he knew that Canada could likely hear the faint ragged traces around the edge.

England didn't care who the hell was looking right now as he continued to rub at the heavy ache of his cock. Let them look. Let the fucking frog talk about his sexual deviance, that french lush only wished he could get himself off so easily. Let America watch his brother too as Canada sat down on the desk, laid back, and spread those long muscular legs wide open to give England and the rest a perfect view of that tight, inviting hole. England loved fucking him like that. He loved gripping the milky baby soft skin of Canada's inner thighs until there were bruises as he fucked him breathless.

And oh how the little bugger knew, his hands, left sticky, right bloodied, both slid oh so slowly across his knees, to his outer thighs covered with only a sparse dusting of light blonde hair, to the inviting and so fucking tempting smooth skin. God those hands moved so damn slowly, but England could see him squeeze, hear him moan as the sensitive nerves picked up every caress, every scrape of nails and he realized that Canada was mirroring the languid and steady motion of England's own hand perfectly and that thought alone made him give that fucking throbbing ache an extra hard squeeze. _Mmm, you remember just how daddy does it, don't you?_

His thighs stained and dirtied beautifully, Canada brought his left hand up again, licking his own salty essence greedily up, making sure to wet his fingers until they were practically dripping with slick saliva. He sat up supporting himself with one arm, the muscles of his stomach tense and trembling even so but God he wanted so badly to watch England watching him as those wet fingers stole down between his spread legs. His middle finger circled the tight opening and he held his lower lip between his teeth until it turned white. He could see England's hand rubbing at the bulge in his pants and it made his mouth so fucking dry just thinking about his cock, sliding between his lips, sliding into his ass and- Dammit, you're going to draw it out like you always do, aren't you? _Oh God maybe Ludwig should've only given you twenty minutes 'cause I don't think I can take it today… Not with Al watching… I don't know why that makes a difference and if anything it should've just made this easier but just knowing he's there, even if I don't look at him it just makes me so-_  
"Matthew," England warned him at first sight of the distant expression, that emerald gaze hard. "Focus." His smile was wicked as he teased, "or is daddy going to have to punish you?"

Canada's violet eyes blinked sharply back into clarity at the threat. There was an odd hush in the room at those words but oh they had no idea how badly Canada wanted it. He looked carefully and saw England's hand stealing up to the soft leather belt around his waist and he whimpered softly. _Oh god you did, daddy, you did bring it... _He licked his lips, following the movement of England's long fingers toying with the silver buckle and damn if he wasn't already seated his legs would've given out.  
"Oh no... pleasedaddydon'tdon'tdothatI'llbegood," he rushed out as his fingers dipped inside the small tight pucker and he knew that England didn't buy for a damn second that he didn't want to feel the sting of the leather against the backs of his thighs 'cause if England really wanted to punish him the worst thing of all was to ignore him or forget him or pretend that he was America and not Canada even though now he fucking knew the truth behind that nasty little game.

_"Terribly sorry about that, Matthew," England had said without the slightest hint of repentance after the conference. "You and Alfred look so awfully alike it's hard to tell you apart." He'd shrugged as if that were the end of the matter and Canada, furious, had wanted to grab him and shake him and scream that he knew exactly who he was and this was exactly why France expressed concern whenever he said that he and England were still intimate and exactly why America didn't even believe him when he told him flat out and the two of them were fucking. He could feel more than hear the blood pounding in his ears, even as he smiled on the outside and nodded, and felt as if he were watching himself from the outside turn away from England with his shoulders slumped. And then he heard England say to him  
"Of course if you'd worn that little gift I'd given you perhaps I'd know the difference."_

Canada was still, and had he truly been America as England had pretended to mistake him for he'd have hauled off and punched that bastard. So that's what this is about? I finally gain true independence from you and you're mad that you can't still control me? Dammit, Arthur you- _But it was then that he looked back just for a moment and realized that there was a nearly imperceptible tension in the other's shoulders as he spoke and Canada realized that it wasn't "Canada" that he'd intended the piece for but "Matthew Williams." **That** had given him pause because he knew as uninterested as England was with him as a territory that Arthur Kirkland had always been there even when…  
"You know that right now Alfred and I are…" he trailed off with a sigh. How the hell could he honestly finish that sentence when he still let England screw him?_

He never did put the collar on but he never stopping sleeping with England either. Because God as much as he loved America, as much as he felt like he wanted to be with him and him alone he just couldn't do it. Every time he'd lay next to America in bed and swear to himself he'd never call England for... that again inevitably he'd find himself alone and wanting and burying his face in the other's sweater vest in the darkness with his hand around his dick jerking it fucking raw as he whispered to himself in that deep accented english "c'mon my boy, you can do better than that, do it for daddy" because if there was one thing he never thought he wanted his brother to be it was that. And yet just when he thought he could live without the constant fight for control with America or the unconditional surrender that he gave England he found himself inevitably aching for the other- God it probably made him a terrible person.

America's eyes on him, here he was, sliding a finger into his anus, putting a show on for England, wanting England to fuck him right here and now so he could "save" his relationship with America. _Good God how did I let Roderich talk me into this insanity? How the hell can I even save this when I can't even stop thinking about Arthur? How the hell am I supposed to just stop this when it's like a part of me and Oh God he's standing up… he's taking it off oh please daddy yes daddy…_ He watched as England rose with a put upon sigh, taking another puff of the pipe with his left hand as he approached, undoing the buckle with his right. He stopped with a put upon sigh and Canada could smell his hot, smoky breath as he leaned in. He just about fucking came when England breathed out for his ears only, "You're such a naughty little colony, Matthew... rebelling against daddy like that," 'cause god did England always just know exactly how to take his focus from the wandering inner soliloquies he was prone to, to thinking only of him in whatever moment he wanted to capture. ""A spot of tea" if it beomes too much," And with those words he took him right back to his most deliriously dark fantasy. With those words, Canada forgot all about America.


End file.
